


With an F

by opalmatrix



Category: Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett
Genre: Childhood, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Friendship, Games, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian had known Francis Crawford of Lymond when she was twelve, and he was not all that different back then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With an F

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/gifts).



> **Warnings:** Mild violence toward a minor; very slight spoilers for _The Game of Kings_. Beta by my sweet sister [**smillaraaq**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Smillaraaq/pseuds/Smillaraaq).

Of the three children playing on the grounds of Midculter, two - slender and fair-haired - were clearly brother and sister. They had to hit the bedraggled shuttlecock just right, or it went off in any direction other than toward the other player. The third child was keeping count of the exchanges. Her long hair was a deep, rich red, and her eyes followed neither the shuttlecock nor the movements of the players.

"Twenty-eight," she announced, flatly, and the boy sent the next volley past his sister and into the horse trough.

"Oh, Francis!" wailed his younger sister. "Now we'll never better that score!"

"No matter," said Francis, cheerfully. Long-limbed, coltish, he was clearly the eldest of the three. "Let's play something that Christian can play, instead."

"We did that," said the girl, crossly. "She won at riddles and at Blind Man's Buff. It's too cold to stand still."

"I'm sure she thinks so too."

"I'm fine," said Christian, staunchly but untruthfully. "What would you like to play, Eloise?"

"Something with a ball?"

Christian sighed. Francis ducked inside the stables and returned with a small leather-covered ball. "Hold out your hands, Christian. No, closer together."

She cupped her hands around the ball, then released it to him. "Now what?"

"Now, make a basket with them."

He backed off several paces and tossed the ball gently into her hands. She dropped his first throw and bobbled the second before she worked out how to handle the catch.

"What about me?" called Eloise.

Francis turned and threw the ball at her. It would have hit her in the stomach if she hadn't moved smartly to meet it. "That was cruel!"

"Wake up, Eloise, It's your turn to throw it to Christian. If she can't catch it, you lose a mark. We each have ten."

"Why do I lose if ... oh, all right!"

"What happens after I catch it?" asked Christian.

"You choose who gets it next. Throw it toward our voices. It's up to us to catch it."

"How does Christian lose points?"

"She has to throw before we count three."

After a sadly small number of exchanges, they had mastered the new game. Eloise abruptly tossed the ball at her brother's head. It missed. "It's no fun anymore."

"We'll have to improve it, then." He scooped up the ball. "Now: I love my love with an _A_ , because she is Amazing. I hate my love with an _A_ \-- "

"I know that game!' called Eloise, with withering eleven-year-old scorn. "It hasn't anything to do with a ball!"

"I'm not playing what you think. Let me finish. With an _A_ , because she is Awful. I feed her on Apricots and Apples. Her name is Amy, and she lives in - Christian! - _Amsterdam._ "

Christian, startled, put her hands out barely in time. "Well?" said Francis.

"Oh! I love my love with a _B_ , because he is Brave. And I hate my love with a _B_ , because he is Boorish. I feed him on Butter and Bread, his name is Bevis, and he lives in ... _Berwick!_ " The ball flew toward where Christian had last heard Eloise, who leapt to catch it.

"I can play this," she announced. "Do I throw to Christian?"

"Yes, but don't dawdle, or you'll lose a mark!"

The game went on swimmingly. Eloise lost three marks, Christian one, and both argued Francis out of one for using cod Greek on X. After Christian had fed her love Zweiback and Zithers (which Eloise claimed should cost her half a mark, at least), they had to sit on the stable yard wall to get their breath.

"It's terribly cold, Francis," said Eloise. "Don't you think we could go in?"

"Your father said not until sunset, Eloise," said Christian, sadly. "That's not for at least an hour."

"But I'm cold. And hungry."

"Oh well," said Francis, carelessly. "I can take care of 'hungry"'

"How?" asked his skeptical sister.

He slid off the wall and sauntered to the wheel stair postern. With impressive care, he levered the door open and crept inside. Unfortunately, he did not ease the door shut behind him, and the wind caught it and slammed it soundly a moment later. On the wall, his audience clutched each other and waited for the inevitable next act.

In fact, it was a good two minutes before Francis was catapulted into the yard, followed by his older brother's roar. "You know what Father said! No noise in the castle until supper, brat!"

Francis picked himself up slowly. "Of course. Whatever you say, Richard."

The words were polite, but his tone and his entire stance were insults. Eloise tightened her grip on Christian's arm, then yelped as the other girl deliberately slipped off the wall and walked slowly toward the angry man in the doorway. She stopped before him and twisted her hands together. "Master Richard, it was my fault. I was hungry. Francis offered to get me a bit of food."

Richard's face lost some of its ruddy fury. "Lady Christian. I suppose ... it has been a while since dinner."

"She's cold, too," offered Eloise, reading the situation from the safe distance of the wall.

Richard rubbed his face and looked at her doubtfully, then touched Christian's hands. "Cold as a fish. I suppose you'd best come in, but for the love of God, be quiet about it. You two as well," he added.

Some fifteen minutes later, the three gamesters huddled in a warm corner of the kitchen with apples and warm milk with honey. Francis and Eloise were grinning, but as the cooks went back to their business, Christian sighed. "I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't really truthful."

"You were splendid," said Francis. Eloise nodded vigorously.

"Oh, you two! I don't mind being naughty for a good cause, but I want to call it what it is. Do you know how tiresome it is, being good all the time?"

"No, I couldn't possibly imagine," said Francis seriously.

 

( _Image from "Portrait of Alof de Wignacourt by Caravaggio" at the[Web Gallery of Art](http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/c/caravagg/10/60alof.html); Letter F from [here](http://freechristimages.org/illuminated_initials.htm)._ )

 


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